tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222021699989210222024-02-21T09:16:32.250-08:00Krishanu...In Pursuit of Happiness....I blink..I Think..I wink..and here is where I ink.Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-43570057247226322912013-07-13T04:54:00.001-07:002013-07-13T04:54:37.979-07:00Me Vs I<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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‘OK I don’t know this.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Dude, have a deeper look. Read it properly. Take an
intelligent guess. You might just get it right. Remember in school, you were a
champ in quiz. Your gut feeling regarding the answers and your intelligent
guesses were always right’ <o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Hmm. Actually that is right. Wait let me see. Let me read
the question. ….OK, now the choices are…..Mmmmmm……..I don’t know head or tail
of this! Ok…lemme take a guess…..Answer b) looks right.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘No man, look at d). This looks logical.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘The answer is obviously between b) and d). But which one? You
are saying d). Logical choice you say? What is your logic based on anyways?
Bullshit!! On first look it seemed that that the answer is b). Now, is that not
gut feeling? When you are analysing, you are not following your heart. I will
mark b). Ok Next.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Oh come on. Are you hearing your own logic? I am saying it
cannot be b). It makes no sense. Go back and change it, you idiot!’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Actually, b) makes less sense. Ok, let’s go back. Mmmm..…Done.
I have marked d). Oh God! Please make this the right choice! Now, Next….
Mmmm…What the hell is this? How is anybody supposed to know that? Crap!! What
logic do I put here? There is no negative marking anyways. Let me mark
something…..Inky Pinky Ponky……</div>
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<b><i>[After 10 Mins and 16 ‘Intelligent Guesses’]<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b><i></i></b></div>
<a name='more'></a><b><i><br /></i></b><br />
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‘Oh man, this is a disaster! I don’t know anything! How is
Asheem doing? It will be really unfair if he passes and I fail.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘How will he pass? We
studied from the same material.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘What about all those technical details which you did not
read? Maybe all the questions are from there! Asheem, when he reads, reads with
lot of dedication. What if he read all that details?’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Bullshit! All these questions are much beyond his
comprehension also. Look at him! He he…He is looking at me and laughing! My,
My….his eyes are blood red! This is a man under lot of stress! I am sure he is
in same state as me. Ha ha….that is a relief! Phew!!!’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Idiot! Concentrate on your paper! You might just pass! What
if all your guesses are correct? You are applying some logic behind all your
choices right? What if some of them get right?’ What if….?’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Ok …Ok...I am back….Miracles happen…I believe in
miracles….I believe in miracles…’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>[After 10 Mins and another 14 ‘Intelligent Guesses’]<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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‘I know this!! I know this!! I know this!!’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Ok relax buddy. Take it easy. Read it properly. Then mark
the right choice. Don’t get too excited. Remember your Class 12 Chemistry exam?
Don’t repeat that act. This is the first and maybe the only known question...For heaven’s sake, don’t get
this wrong.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Ok ok…enough gyan! I am relaxed only. Do you see me jumping
around? This is d). 53 questions. One is sure shot correct. That is like 2%. I
need to get another 56%.....through guesses…..Miracles happen….miracles
happen…..Shit! Why am I kidding myself? Why don’t I just leave?’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Control…control…..concentrate back…concentrate back….’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>[After another 15 mins ….Question number 39]<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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‘Ha ha..this is funny….really funny…..I have not been so
clueless since my GATE exam…….Ha ha…. that was even more funny…they did not let
me step out till end of 3 hours….come back…concentrate concentrate….’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>[Question 42]<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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‘What is Asheem doing!! Is he trying to bang his head on the
table! He he….He is again giving that stupid laugh. I am in same or in even
deeper shit than you buddy! Please don’t pass. If he passes, everyone in the
team will tease me to death! O god! Please let us both fail!’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Idiot look what you are wishing for! If you have to wish
for anything, then wish that you both pass.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘True…. God! Let us both pass. And you know, if there is any
quota, that you consider only ‘x’ number of cases and there is only 1 slot
left…then you know…please let it be me….you know, after all I am the one
praying to you.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Look what you are doing when you are in trouble. The whole
year you don’t remember him…and now you get all religious…..’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>[Question 45]<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b>Asheem</b>: ‘how many
do you have left?’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Me and I:</b> ’8
more. You are finished?’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Asheem:</b> ‘I am
going to fail man. I’ll not even get 20.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Me and I:</b> ‘Submit
it…Let’s see…’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>[After he submits]<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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‘That’s a relief! He failed!’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘What a sadistic guy you are!’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Asheem</b>: ‘You also
submit’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Me and I:</b> ‘I have
8 left’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Asheem</b>:’How long
will it take.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Me and I:</b> ‘2
mins. Wait.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>[After 5 mins]<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b>Asheem:</b> Now how
many are left?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Me and I:</b> ‘3. It’s
fine if you want to leave..’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Asheem</b> (smiling):
‘No, I want to see how much you get’<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>[After another 5 mins]<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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‘Shit 33.96%....But hey!! I got more than Asheem! Yey!!
Yey!!’<o:p></o:p></div>
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Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-60082419293197117442013-06-30T03:43:00.001-07:002013-06-30T03:43:19.261-07:00The heady head message..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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‘Head message chahiye Sir?’ (Do you want a head message,
sir?), the dark chap almost whispered in my ears, while cutting my hair. <o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Nehi’, (No) say I.<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Acha lagega sir’ (it will feel good, sir), he said with a
lot of self-assurance.<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Kitna lagega’ (How much is it)?’ say I.<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Oil message 70 hain sir’. <o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Without Oil?’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘60’.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Well a simple haircut is for 50 bucks. 10 rupees extra for a
message is not much, I thought. <o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Thik hain kar do.’ (Okay, do it), said I.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am always a bit tensed when I am in a saloon. The metallic
sound of the scissors against my ears and on my head makes me nervous. What if
he becomes a bit distracted? There is high probability of my ears getting
chopper off. What if he makes a dent on my head? Almost all my school life, I
never ventured to a salon. I would be surrendering my head to my Mom, instead.
I believed that if I had to trust somebody with my head, then I would rather put
it in my Mom’s hands. Undoubtedly, she did a decent job with my hair. But it
was soon that I was not able to blindly trust her with my hair. The result of
the hair cut would be directly proportional to her mood that day. Days on which
she would be having a rough day at home (lots of utensils to wash, the dog had
shed a lot of fur, Dad had said something which Mom did not like, etc. etc.),
my head would look like a badly mowed lawn with haircuts on those days. Every time
after a haircut, I would look a bit different. <o:p></o:p></div>
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After a lot of introspection, I had come to the conclusion then
that it is best to venture outside home. Since then, I have trusted my head to
a plethora of eccentric gentlemen for purpose of relieving myself from some
locks of hair. Over years, for haircutting, I have sat on roadside bricks and
chairs, I have been to barbers who are poets and have read poetry out to me,
while cutting hair, and motivated with my indomitable adventurous spirit, that
is always a part of me, today I had stepped into ‘Ram Lakan Gents Beauty Salon‘.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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I mentally calculated that for 10 rupees extra, he would not
give me more than a couple of minute’s message. Even if it is very bad, for 2
minutes I can withstand any torture. <o:p></o:p></div>
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When the dark lanky chap started the message, I felt like a
hammer falling on my head. I was dazed for some time. But the hammering did not
stop. It just went on and on. I told myself that there must be some sense to
all this torture. I should not question his expertise.<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘After he is done
with this, whatever he was doing, you will feel so relieved’, I said to myself.
‘Have patience’, said I. And anyways, for 10 rupees extra, he will not continue
for long.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But the hammering went on. He poked and punched, and grilled
my head. ‘He is overdoing himself’, I told to myself. All this for 10 rupees? He
must be a sadist and must be getting pleasure out of inflicting pain to people.
I thought that I should just ask him to stop. Tell him that he is torturing me.
But then I thought, what will the people waiting in queue think? Would they
think that I am too feminine to take the message? Will they laugh at me after I
leave? I decided to hang in there till the end. Whatever happens I should not
cave in. <o:p></o:p></div>
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He stopped. I opened my eyes relieved. Before I could even
release my big sigh of relieve, he started again. I stooped in and almost sunk
inside the chair, while taking the beating. What if some of my nerve endings
rupture because of this beating? What if I have a haemorrhage? What if I go
into a coma with the last thing I would ever remember is the message at “Ram
Lakan’s”? <o:p></o:p></div>
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At this point, I slightly derided myself. ‘What all are you thinking? What a nautankibaaz
(person who does drama all the time), you are! Everyday tens of people must be
taking message from him. Nobody says anything, and you are thinking of going
into a coma?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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I straightened myself on the chair. However, he beats me, I will
not bow down! I will take all the beating with my head held high! He suddenly
stopped. I opened my eyes with disbelief. It is over? Apparently not. He told
me to lean forward and stretch my hands forward. He started messaging my hands,
then he came to my shoulders, and then he started messaging my chests. I could
not take it any longer. I was feeling like laughing, I was feeling ticklish, I
was feeling violated. I stopped him and said, ‘bhaiya chodo, aur nehi chahiye (brother, please leave, you don’t have
to continue). He said,’bas aur thoda’ (just a bit more). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I understood that he will not leave me until he has made
mashed potato put of me. He came back to my head, did a bit of ‘message’. Then
he did something, which totally shocked me. He caught hold of my chin with one hand
and scalp with the other and twisted it suddenly. I could hear a cracking sound
in my neck region. The Doors song, ‘This is the end’ started playing in my
head. Then I opened my eyes and saw that I was still alive. He was holding my
chin and scalp in a way by which I understood that he will now twist it in the
other direction. I have seen too many people getting killed like this in
Hollywood movies. Heroes like Steven Segal have killed scores of people by
twisting their heads, just the last day I was watching ‘Taken’ in which Liam
Neeson kills at least a dozen in the same manner. I look at the lanky chap,
holding my chin, with a look of “please don’t kill me”. He tells me again,’acha
lagega bhaiya’(It will feel good). What if he overestimates the strength of my
neck? What if he underestimates strength of his hands? What if? What if? What
if? I just let go! He wrings my neck again, in the other direction. And I
emerge alive!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Elated at my survival, I get up and give him 60 rupees. He
asks for another 50. It is then that it dawned to me, that the message alone is
60 rupees. O god! Anyways, I was so happy having survived the torture that I
gave him another 50, without saying a word. I came out of the salon a much
happy man. I liked the world around me! Everything seemed so lovely! And I think it was all because of the
wonderful message I just got!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-48194224283709265972013-06-02T08:02:00.001-07:002013-06-02T08:03:09.917-07:00Fiction Vs Non Fiction<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been a while since I have stopped reading fiction. Fiction these days do not add any value to you. I somehow feel that after I read a book i should know a bit more than I knew before reading the book. Most fiction books do not do that. I used to read a lot of fiction once. In school, Enid Blyton, Hardy Boys, Three investigators and other fast paced adventure tales used to trigger by imagination and would take me to this fantasy world of adventure, thrill and suspense. Then I started reading Bengali Literature. I believe Bengali literature is as vast as English literature. I had full collections of Sarat Chandra Chatterjee, Rabindranath Tagore, Bankim chandra, Shorodindu at home and I had read almost everything while I was still in school. Sarat Chandra was my favorite for a long time. All his stories would be around common Bengali households, about common people going about their lives. What made them extra ordinary was the depth in which he would explore human relations, emotions and ties. All this books are extra ordinary studies of the human psychology. Rabindranath was famous for his short stories. His short stories would be based on very simple or common theme and would almost always leave you with a smile on your face or a tear in your eye.<br />
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During later part of school, I started reading thrillers like Alistair Macleen, Frederick Forsyth, Robin Cook, Micheal Crichton, etc. I was specially thrilled by Frederick Forsyth books simply because of the detail that would be there. I remember one particular book which had some 4-5 pages or more, describing how to make an atom bomb. I guess the first non fiction book I read was a book called,"Jesus Came to India". It intrigued me beyond comprehension. No fiction book had made me think and interested me as this book did. I some became hooked to non fiction since then. "Truth is stranger than fiction", it's said. Very true. Some times, there are news which can beat any well thought out fiction.<br />
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Following is summary of a news article which came in Times of India: </div>
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There was this lady who was married to a rich guy. She was not happy with the marriage and so she hatched a master plan. She knew a local gangster. She told him that they were to come to her house, kill the husband, tie her up, ransack the house a bit and leave. She would pay them some cash amount. She would get relief from her husband and also get all her husbands money, the gangster gets their money. Win win situation for all; except of course for the husband. What the gangsters did was, they came to the house, killed the husband, gangraped the lady, robbed the house and escaped. </div>
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Beat that!</div>
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Recently I finished reading this book called "Dongri to Dubai". It's a book on Mumbai underworld. Though it focuses mainly on Dawood Ibrahim, it a pretty comprehensive treatise of all Mumbai Dons from our Independence period till today. It was like ready a tale of fantasy. The lavish life style in which the dons lived, the fear they commanded and the reckless arrogance with which they snubbed the system awestruck me. </div>
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Instances like Haji Mastan in his white suit and shoes stepping into a police station like a police commissioner , talking to Varda Bhai (who was inside lock up) for developing business ties, Karim Lala would just send his walking stick and people would bow to his wants, etc. It was a great book. Very well researched and stitched together. I would recommend this book to any fiction or non fiction reader. Once again the book re confirmed my love and faith on non fiction. </div>
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Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-73845538454104254602012-09-01T09:10:00.000-07:002012-09-01T09:10:09.084-07:00Desert Potraits<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-47939986544864317502012-08-25T06:15:00.001-07:002012-09-01T10:36:53.384-07:00Rajasthan trip: How it all began.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="background-color: black;"><br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><b><i><span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">For oft, when on my bed I lie</span></i></b><b><i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">In vacant or in pensive mood,</span><br />
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">They flash upon that inward eye</span><br />
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Which is the bliss of solitude;</span><br />
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">And then my heart with pleasure fills,</span><br />
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">And dances in Rajasthan sand and hills.<span class="apple-converted-space"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></b></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: white; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="background-color: black;">(Stolen from William Wordsworth; changed according to context)</span><span style="background-color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">As I sit now</span> <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">reminiscing about the past week, it all seems like a big jigsaw puzzle of memorable events which somehow has become all jumbled inside my head. As I write this blog I would try to solve the jigsaw puzzle and present a comprehensible picture of the Rajasthan trip to anyone who ventures to read.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: white; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">It all started one day morning, maybe a week and a half before the trip. I had planned for a 6 days trek from Manali, a hill station in the Himalayas, during this vacation when almost all of my friends gradually dropped out of it. There were various personal reasons for that, which I don’t want to go into the details. I had applied and got leave from office. My trains were booked. Suddenly the trip was cancelled. I had gone to sleep the last night all dejected. As I opened my eyes in the morning, this brilliant idea came to me. I immediately called up Avinash. He did not pick up the phone, later when he called, I could not pick up the phone, but when I did speak to him I told him my idea. I had always wanted to go and explore Rajasthan. And he was based out of Jaipur. I humbly asked him for his time and company for a Rajasthan trip. And he said yes! <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: white; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">He did all the planning all the research. 'Dada, there are so many great and amazing places to eat in Rajasthan! Everybody comes here for the forts and sand. Lets include great food also to the list. Let's call this trip The Rajasthan Food Trip.'</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: white; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: white; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The forts and palaces to visit and the places to eat we had fixed. Everything else was unplanned. We did not book any travel tickets, we did not book any hotels. We knew where we had to reach, but we left circumstance to lead us there. About a week later, I was on my way. I started from Bangalore in train and headed to Jaipur via Delhi. I got out of the bus in Jaipur and there was Avinash waiting for me to pick me up. It was almost evening when I reached Avinash’s place. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: white; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I freshened up, came out of the washroom; I was a bit tired after travelling for 48 hours straight. ‘Dada, mango juice and Idly for you, ‘said Avinash. The glass that contained the juice was easily the biggest glass I have ever seen. I drank it full, rubbed my hands on my tummy, I could not control the contented smile in my face, and I thought, ‘Here begins The Great Rajasthan food trip.’</span></div></div>Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-35621592195119564842012-06-30T20:51:00.000-07:002012-09-01T10:51:23.362-07:00Whatever happens is for good.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Jo bhi hota hain acha ke liye hota hain....</div>
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'Whatever happens is for good,'said dad.<br />
'Really?' Said I after a little pause.<br />
'Of course not,'said he, with a small giggle. 'These are fundas to fool your mind. All that happens to you is not and cannot be good. But just to keep you from going into permanent depression, you say such things like this. These are all mind games that you play which helps you to move on. Everything are mind games.'<br />
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">More I thought about this little discussion I had with my dad, more I understood about a distinct truth about life. The world is a huge reservoir of material and immaterial pleasures/experiences/possessions. And nobody is satisfied in this world. Because nobody has everything. Personally I can say that it all began in early childhood when I saw the kid sitting in the seat in front of me in school, carrying that big pencil box. I wished I had it. But then I said to myself,'What's the use of a pencil box anyways? It just carries a couple of pencils, pen, sharpner, eraser. They can all come in one of the pouches of your bag. So, for rest of my school life I never carried a pencil box or felt the need of carrying one. I told myself that I am happy with my pouch. And maybe I was.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvDr9xXkpuljHgVGCse6Ji2XIhA5RYbdRD0_kkQXz_-weC9PZT9SKu5c0Sy3F0l2OwBUtCAWBYxRU6EJferunzb4JcceBiUiLlgM8LU15X4l7jeqBY3iqIYIF2O5KWWdek_gnzRhtVigjz/s1600/DSC_1276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvDr9xXkpuljHgVGCse6Ji2XIhA5RYbdRD0_kkQXz_-weC9PZT9SKu5c0Sy3F0l2OwBUtCAWBYxRU6EJferunzb4JcceBiUiLlgM8LU15X4l7jeqBY3iqIYIF2O5KWWdek_gnzRhtVigjz/s320/DSC_1276.JPG" width="213" /></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">We all aimed for those coveted IIT/IIM seats at one point of time in our life. Then we kind of settled down in the colleges/institutes that came our way. We made ourselves believe that this is what was best for us. And we did good in where ever we were. After some days you get over your regrets and kind of move ahead with your life the way it is.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">I came to think about photography in the same context. Once some photography pro said to me,'Photography is all about fooling the camera to capture what you see in your mind over and above what you see though your eyes.' Life is like photography. The reality maybe something totally different, but what you capture in you mind is really what you want your mind to believe. And as you get a beautiful photograph out of fooling your camera, you can get a beautiful view of life by playing some small tricks with your mind.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Life is not fair. All that you want to happen never happens. As a good friend of mine once told,'More you want to cling on to something, more it escapes from you. Somewhat like you trying to close your fist on a handful of sand.' So it is important to let go. It is important to make yourself believe that this is the best that can happen to you. And accept life the way it is. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">But does that mean that one stops aspiring for better things, better living? No, not at all. But is important to understand when to let go. It is important to understand one's limitations and that sometimes life screws you up bad. But all that can go wrong, never goes wrong. So be happy about all that did not go wrong, tell yourself,'Whatever happened was for good' and then move on with a smile.</span></div>
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Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-13544594177278807652012-06-16T06:16:00.001-07:002012-09-01T10:54:43.085-07:00Rains in Kolkata...rains in Bangalore...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here i am in abhijit, hari, anand's place with no work. Enjoying a leisurely Saturday evening. Abhijit is getting ready to attend his friends reception. Hari went and Anand has left to repair Anand's bike (For the inquisitive, who is asking the obvious question of why Hari had to go with Anand to repair a bike; Anand and Hari are inseparable brothers, Anand does not go any where[other than his office and washroom] without Hari).<br />
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And here i am scribbling thoughts. Let me come to the topic. Before I start with the 'bakar', let me say that when Hari was leaving, I asked him for a topic, on which I can write something and this is what he told me. 'Rains in Kolkata...rains in Bangalore...'. And me being the talented guy I am i knew i can write something at least on this, somehow I'll connect this with some gyan and will make a happy ending also.<br />
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Starting with the topic:<br />
What is rain? Rain of course has a scientific definition of it's own, but to me rain is a beautiful form of nature. It is a touch point of human and nature. I have always loved the rain. I remember an instance when I walked home from the point the school bus dropped me, a distance of a km or so, in heavy rain, with the umbrella in my bag. Of course I had fever the next day. But I still think that that walk was worth it. In another instance, in engineering college, i went for a walk in the rain with a friend of mine, Anirban. A walk of around 2 kms.<br />
If you remember the 'Ghanan Ghanan. song from Lagaan, then we understand what rain means to a farmer or for that matter to rural India as such. It symbolises hope, life, redemption, rejuvenation. However that same rain in extreme amounts causes widespread flood and wrecks havoc in the same land.<br />
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That brings me to the thought that is it not true for everything in life. It is said that excess of everything is bad. Excess of biriyani causes stomach upset. Excess of cold water causes throat problems, etc. etc.<br />
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Some people say they love to get wet and dance around in the rain. Some people say that they hate to get wet. And so is almost everything in life. Some like movies some dont. So it is important to understand the differences in everybody. And to respect everyone's feelings.<br />
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Poets have some special relationship with the rain. Whenever there is rain, they go to trance and poetry and rhythm pours out of their pens as a mountain river. They associate romance, lust and I dont know what else with rain. Following suit was the movie industry who created an altogether separate category sequence called the rain sequence. Whenever the hero or the heroine comes out of the house to do something dramatic, he/she always faces thunder and rain. Then there is the close up of his/her contorted wet face signifying struggle. Heroes/heroines started getting wet in the rain during moments of extreme happiness as well. Then there is this cliche scene, where the camera comes down on the face of the hero/heroine as a drop of rain falls on his/her face.<br />
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What is there to like in the rain? nothing. It is vagaries of nature like rain that we have built houses. Otherwise we could have as well lived under trees. It wets up the roads, clouds make the surroundings gloomy, but still we like the rain. Life is all about such contradictions. Some say that when you start something always go till the end. Some say if you have started something and realised it's a mistake, then why continue? Life is full of contradictions. And nobody has a correct formula to deal with this puzzle called life. So let's just go out and face life as it is. And not try to understand and analyse too much. Bring it on Life!<br />
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(Just watched the movie shanghai, which has nothing of shanghai).<br />
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Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-13221193256467648682012-06-02T08:42:00.002-07:002012-09-01T10:52:21.574-07:00Time and Commitment<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Humans are such that they can solve any problem posed in front of them. The only thing that is needed is time. And to give time to something you need commitment. So it all boils down to how much committed you are to solve the problem or to see to it that the problem at hand reaches a logical conclusion.<br />
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And if you cannot commit yourself to this problem then it only means that there are other commitments which are taking precedence. As long as you can pinpoint your commitment and be committed towards it, there is no issue. But more often than not, we remain confused about our commitments.<br />
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Humans can only be committed to limited number of things in life. Normal human beings cannot be committed more than a single pursuit. It is thus not a surprise that Spiderman had a miserable personal life, because his commitment was to save the world. Same happened to all the superheroes of the world(except maybe Ironman, who has a wonderful and 'peppery' personal life). It came in papers recently that according to some recent studies, it has been revealed that Einstein treated his wife very coldly. Well, what did people expect? They wanted him to discover relativity and also go shopping with his wife everyday? There is a limit to what humans can achieve and commit oneself to.<br />
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And as I had said before, it is important to know exactly what you want to be committed to. Then give time to it. And there you have a formula for guaranteed success.<br />
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(* extrapolation of thoughts whose foundation was laid while I had a discussion with 'Baba')</div>
Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-70191136245712855922012-05-10T10:54:00.002-07:002012-09-01T10:54:23.576-07:00Blessed be the Lazy, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I think being lazy is good. As most of the problems that we face today are because of over enthusiastic active people. Had the Megasthenes’, Vasco Da Gama’s and Columbus’s stayed at home we would have had a much better society today. Watched Helena Norberg’s Ecomomics of Happiness some days back. For the last few days I was thus observing how consumerism has taken over our mind, soul and body. And what I saw and realized out of observation and self-realization was quite alarming.<u></u><u></u></div>
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Helena Norberg-Hodge (hereby referred as HNH) made her case as she demonstrated how globalization is actually disrupting the carefully grafted local communities, cultures and traditions which has developed over some thousands and millions of years. She demonstrates how the so called messiah called ‘Globalization’, who was supposed to be the panacea of society’s ailments has actually increased manifold the problems of poverty, communalism and other social evils. Most of our society’s problems are because of causes which were sown in the last century with the advent of mass production, industrial revolution, globalization and the mad drive to promote consumerism.<u></u><u></u><br />
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So what has laziness got to do with all this? You must be wondering. It’s elementary Watson! I would say. Would it not have been for Marco Polo, who had this incurable overenthusiasm, Europe would have never come to know of Chinese Silk and Oriental pleasures. And mind it that Europe was also not in a great mess either. Had overenthusiastic people had just stayed home, all these local communities would have prevailed, and the world would have been a greater place to live in.<u></u><u></u></div>
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Population:<u></u><u></u></div>
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Population is another by product of this bubble called globalization. Had people lived in their small habitats, they would have by themselves kept reproduction under strict control because they knew that resources were limited. And then globalization created a mirage of the plenty and the greedy as humans always were, we starved voraciously eating up the natural resources of the earth.<u></u><u></u></div>
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It is said that having sex is like jogging for 20kms. It is so much of exercise. I think God made this a natural inhibition for people to avoid sex. Had people not been so active, the world would have seen a lot less population today.<u></u><u></u></div>
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According to mythology, in ancient Sparta, s<span lang="EN">hortly after birth, a mother would bathe her child in wine to see whether the child was strong. If the child survived it was brought before the Gerousia(the Spartan senate) by the child's father. The Gerousia then decided whether it was to be reared or not. Every community would have developed such natural ways of eugenics and every community would have population of healthy, intelligent people.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Wars and Conflict:<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">It was all those over enthusiastic kings who caused all this trouble we have today. Alexander came to India all the way from Macedonia. What was his dire need for all that trouble? He could have easily stayed at home and enjoyed life. He should be called Alexander the fool, instead of Alexander the Great. How can a person who let go of endless worldly pleasures and took himself and hundreds of his subjects to despair and pain and took the world to disharmony be anything but a fool. But we call such characters as great and people who actually laid back and enjoyed life as lazy and underachievers. All wars and conflict happen because of over active people. Had Osama Bin Laden been lazy, the twin tower would have been safe today. Had Americans been a bit more lazy, the twin tower wouldn’t have been constructed at all. And people would have been happy raising wheat in their wild wild west homes.</span><u></u><u></u></div>
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Science and Technology:<u></u><u></u></div>
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Had Newton been lazy, he would never have wondered why the apple fell from the tree. He would have just left it alone and enjoyed his siesta under the tree. And has his or Edison’s or Einstein’s inventions really made the world a better place to live in? No. James Watt caused a hell lot of sound and air pollution with his steam engine. And the overenthusiastic man went on laying railway tracks to the world’s end. Who wanted to travel that much? Was it really required? We say that all we do is to ultimately to quench hunger in our stomach. ‘Sab kuch iss paapi pet ke liye’, we say in Hindi. Well I don’t think we needed railway tracks all over India to feed ourselves. I don’t think we needed electric bulbs when we anyways sleep for 8 hours every day. We could as well sleep from sunset (7 pm ) to sunrise(5 am). Had you been lazy enough, you could have slept through 1-2 hours of darkness, and you could have very well avoided the bulb. One may argue that not everywhere in the world do we have sunlight for that many hours in a day. Well, had it not been for the overenthusiastic man nobody would have gone that far to live at such god forbidden places.<u></u><u></u></div>
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God created a perfect world for everybody. But the only mistake he did was made humans over enthusiastic. Why do you have to achieve any great ness in life? The only aim that every individual should have to try to achieve happiness. And in this mad hunt to achieve achievement we forget to achieve Happiness.<u></u><u></u></div>
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(*just kidding.)</div>
</div>
Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-28544608009312619412012-05-10T10:51:00.001-07:002012-09-01T10:55:00.857-07:00Grandmothers....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizceuo5qIFUlR1uz5cc3IN0DcDRgHfX46hFeMq8VC8XvWAewEq34aEqwSJNd46HPCV3xih6XcQYmON9IqM3f-qzy-z-1ji_l09ZJMdrCdqzx3-uJXUFIUed_6vsdoj2F6cNSNBEGH1xeqO/s1600/DSC_0292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizceuo5qIFUlR1uz5cc3IN0DcDRgHfX46hFeMq8VC8XvWAewEq34aEqwSJNd46HPCV3xih6XcQYmON9IqM3f-qzy-z-1ji_l09ZJMdrCdqzx3-uJXUFIUed_6vsdoj2F6cNSNBEGH1xeqO/s320/DSC_0292.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-90546047088780732572012-03-16T08:06:00.003-07:002012-09-01T10:55:20.288-07:00The Selfish Giant by Oscar Wilde.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
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There was this giant who had a big garden. Many children
came to the garden to play. The giant was very selfish and wanted to keep all
the beauty of the garden to himself, so he shooed the children away. Till then
the garden which was always filled with children’s laughter and joy became
empty. All the plants started dying off. In all other gardens there was blossom
but in the giant’s garden there was winter always. The giant wondered what had
happened to his garden. One day through a hole in the garden some children came
in and seeing them and their joy and laughter all the plants and trees also
came back to life and started blossoming. The giant saw all this from his
window and understood how selfish he has been and from then on he also started
playing with the kids.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What is wrong with her,” whispered Rajib in my ear, “why is
she telling us these cute stories all of a sudden?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Class. We are going to enact this play for our annual
function this year. And all of you are in the play. I want you all to
participate and we’ll all have a lot of fun! Right boys?” said our Bengali
teacher with a lot of enthusiasm. We did not share the enthusiasm. I looked at
Rajib with bored eyes and returned me back the same look. <br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As all group of individuals have a subgroup who are the ever
enthusiasts, our class also had one. They had all the questions in the world.
“When is the play Ma’am?” “When will we practice Ma’am?” “Will we have like proper
makeup Ma’am?” “Ma’am, who will play what roll?” questions came from all
corners of the class. And Ma’am pleasured everyone with a benevolent smile and
with an attitude as if she was handing out relief packages to flood victims.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ok class! Quite! We will now decide on the roles that are
to be played,” said Ma’am. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She is telling as if she is going to have a voting as in
Parliament. She is going to give me some crappy role for sure, “remarked Rajib.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You anyways don’t deserve any good roles. Have you seen
yourself in the mirror?” said I.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The main child role is to be done by Sayan. Sayan are you
fine?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes ma’am.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The giant is you Anirban.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“OK ma’am.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Rajib, you are child number 2.”</div>
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“Ok ma’am.”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It continued. My name never came. It was one of the greatest
ordeals of life. The time when every other one of your friend gets ordained
with some character or the other and you expect that the next will be you. I
have had the same feeling many times in later points of my life. When you have
seen so many of your friends making through the doors of the coveted
universities of the world for further studies and you had waited patiently for
your opportunity. When you had seen all your friends get the expected
appraisals in office and you had just had to wait for the next year. When you
had seen your friends getting through those dream jobs and grabbing good
profiles and you just hoped that someday even you’ll land a good job and
profile. I guess that is the curse of mediocrity because of which you have to
wait every time for that push from fate to take yourself forward. You simply
don’t succeed to push yourself forward.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And the rest of you are trees,” said ma’am, with a
dismissive air. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Trees? Why do you have to have live children to be trees?
Are they planning to make the trees dance around the stage? We had an ever
enthusiast in our midst who summarized all that was running in my mind in one
simple question. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What are we trees supposed to do on stage ma’am? Do we have
dialogues also?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’ll discuss all that when we start the rehearsal,” ma’am
said dismissing us trees even more.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We trees had the coolest part of all. Though I felt bad
about the dismissive air with which teacher had told us, “And the rest of you
are trees,” later I loved my part. While everybody else had to learn dialogues
and jump around on stage. My role was brilliantly simple. When the children
were playing in the garden during the beginning of the play, I was to sway from
side to side. When the giant prohibits all children from playing in the garden,
I die and I sort of lie down. And then when all children come back to the
garden, I jump up to life and start swaying again. We trees stood and gossiped,
poked each other, played pranks on each other and enjoyed in general as our
other classmates, who had ‘real’ roles toiled to get their parts right. It felt
like I was watching the play from the stage itself while playing no real part
in the play. Before long we had many of our friend’s dialogues by heart. And we
used to prompt them whenever some of them suddenly started stammering due to
extreme cases of memory failure or nervousness. Well it would be lying if I say
that we trees were brilliant in our part. Because we were so engrossed in
watching what other classmates were doing and by hearting their dialogues that
many a times we forgot to sway when we were supposed to, or we forgot to die
when we were supposed to. Then there was the problem of every tree not dying
synchronously at the moaning sound of the violin. On one occasion one of our
fellow trees fell asleep while he was in his dying mode. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Though that day he got a terrible thrashing from ma’am, ma’am
also understood that it had not been fair on her part to treat us so
dismissively. She understood that even we, the plain and simple trees, could
spoil the entire play. And from then on we were taken care of. And that day I learnt
that whatever part somebody might play, every part was important. And anybody
not playing his part, however small that part maybe, can spoil the entire play.</div>
</div>
Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-28589150769414529792012-03-16T08:05:00.002-07:002012-09-01T10:55:50.473-07:00The curious case of Forgetfulness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I keep forgetting. I have always had this habit of
forgetting very obvious things about life. On the other hand I also had this
uncanny and surely weird habit of remembering some genuinely minute detail of
some objects/events/persons. People usually attribute these eccentricities of
people to their genes. And I can proudly say that this is one thing that I have
inherited ditto from my parents. And I have already beaten them hands down in
the game of forgetfulness. Because I took it to levels which they can never
imagine.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In early childhood, I had a story in Bengali literature book
of mine, which had mention of a very forgetful person. According to the story,
this person had once gone out with an umbrella in the monsoon. He came back and
instead of putting the umbrella in the corner of the room, he himself stood at
the corner of the room and put the umbrella on the bed to rest.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well the story sounded very stupidly funny at that point of
time but it feels like a genuine possibility some time in my life. You must be
wondering by now why I am being so hyper about forgetfulness and what disaster
i have been through recently and stuff. For all of you just one request, please
read on and all your questions would be answered.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have seen people doing stupid, forgetful stuff out of
chance, but I have been a consistent performer in this regard. I remember an
incident with Sougata, one of my friends from back in my engineering college.
We were travelling in train, standing near the gate and gossiping away to
glory. In the midst of his jolly mood he bought a Dairy Milk bar. For some
reason he was really happy, because believe me, otherwise you never buy a Dairy
Milk with 5 friends around you, knowing very well that all you’ll get is maybe
half a cube. Well to our astonishment he
bought the bar, and to our even more astonishment he un-wrapped the bar and threw
away the bar outside the moving train door, keeping the wrap in his hand. Do
you have any such memory which always plays slow in motion in your mind player
whenever you think of it? Well whenever I think of this incident I can still
see that chocolate bar flying out of the door, a gasp of horror and desperation
coming out of the 4 of us and Sougata still not able to grasp and understand
what is happening around him. All this plays in slow motion in my mind. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Coming back to the statement that I made some time back
about forgetfulness being inherited through genes; let me try to substantiate
my claim with some examples. My mother is a natural in this genre. We live in a
joint family and ours is one of those rare once which still has a common
kitchen with a coal chulha. Well the kitchen happens to be in the ground floor
and our abode happens to be in the 2<sup>nd</sup> floor. My mother, who is the
uncrowned head cook of our house, has the responsibility of managing the
production and distribution chain of food in our house. She does a very good job
of it. But if you have a forgetful mind having such a responsibility can be a
real pain. Statements like,”Ooho, I forgot to bring the milk,” or,”Jah! I
forgot to give the brinjal curry to your grand mom is pretty common phenomenon.
And then, even after she is done with her cooking, you would find her running
around the house from ground floor to 2<sup>nd</sup> floor taking care of some
loose end or the other. Whenever my mom goes somewhere outside, you have to
leave mom to herself for about 15 minutes, when she revises in her mind her
daily chores to make sure she is not forgetting something before she leaves.
However, those 15 minutes she never manages to get and so within 15 minutes of
leaving home she remembers something she has forgotten. That thing can be
anything from her forgetting to close the windows, or her forgetting to put the
milk in the refrigerator to her forgetting to lock the doors. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well my dad does not make a great deal of his forgetfulness
but his contribution to the cause also cannot be neglected. Any action on the
part of dad has a minimum reminder threshold of 2.5 reminders (on an average)
before the action can has any chance of being performed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now coming to the accomplishments of the protagonist; let me
try to make a summary of it while trying to highlight my greatest achievements
and trimming out the trivialities. The problem with trying to recall your deeds
of forgetfulness is that you realize that you had forgotten most of it. Well my
earliest case that I can recall is an incident when I was in class 7. Well that
particular day of summer, I returned from school, and on the way to the
bathroom to have a bath, I somehow entered the Puja room instead (we have a
room, which just has various sacred idols and is used for Puja). I sat there
for 5-10 minutes before my aunt noticed me. She suspected something out of the
ordinary and asked me what I was doing there with a towel on my shoulders and
in my school uniform. It was then that I realized that I was in the wrong place
and rushed out. In those days I had thought that this was my first signs of
nirvana. But later I found out that it was a plain and simple case of
forgetfulness. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One day during engineering, I came to the canteen with my
friends. When I tried to take a plate I found that something in my hand was
hindering me to take the plate. I found it was a lock. It was then that I
realized that I had taken up the lock but never locked the room and I had come
down to the canteen with it. That day I decided that I had to do something
about my condition. Next time I went home I brought with me a tonic called
Brainolia. This tonic, which was marketed in a large scale in West Bengal at
that time, was supposed to increase your memory and do miracles to your brain.
But what can you do to a person if he forgets having his tonic. So I forgot all
about the tonic and the day I was leaving hostel after completion of
engineering I found it in one corner of the almirah.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are numerous incidents of my forgetfulness. Very recently,
my brother in law had given me some considerable amount of cash to be given to
my sister. And I totally forgot the transaction. When my brother in law later
asked me if I had given her the money, I asked him, “What money?” My brother in
law must have thought I am joking but later during the conversation when he
found out that I don’t remember a thing, he got one of the greatest shocks of
his life. I told my sister that though I don’t remember anything about the
money I’ll still try to find it. She gave me an incredulous look. I explained
to her, that if somebody gave me money, there are places where I would usually
keep it, which would be away from the terrorist hands of my niece. I would look
for the money in all those places. Well it took a while, but I found the money.
And that was the first time I myself believed that transaction had ever
happened, though I still don’t remember it happening. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then something happened, someone entered my life and
from then on I have seen a steady improvement of my situation. It is for no
reason that they call it a smartphone. Smartphones and their revolutionary
reminder and notes applications have helped me get a hang of my forgetfulness.
I often forget to check the notes that I have made, but otherwise when I
remember to check my notes, I am more or less in track of my day to day
activities. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(All characters in this article are imaginary)</div>
</div>
Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-11840577530881991252012-03-16T08:03:00.003-07:002012-09-01T10:56:18.659-07:00The beautiful business of the Auto.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
From Infosys campus, Hyderabad, to a place called Kondapur
is Rs 32 by meter. The autowallah stuffs in 5 people in his shack of a vehicle
and charges Rs 15 per head for the distance. That is a profit of 134% over and
above the stipulated profit included in the meter fare. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let’s delve down a bit deeper. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="st">Typical </span><em><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">mileage</span></em><span class="st"> for an Indian-made </span><em><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">auto rickshaw</span></em><span class="st"> is around 35 kilometers per liter of petrol. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="st">Kondapur is a distance of 3km from Infosys. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="st">Therefore in 1 litre, the auto makes around 5
up down trips to kondapur.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="st">Thus, for 5 trips, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="st">Cost: Rs 70.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="st">Revenue: 75*10=750.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="st">Profit: Rs 680.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="st">Assumptions: 1) auto driver enjoys life and
does not make more that 5 up down trips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="st"> 2) His vehicle needs a maintenance
of Rs 30 everyday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="st"> 3) He does not work for more than
20 days in a month.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="st">His monthly take home is Rs. 13000.
Considering that he did not go to engineering college he has saved some 2-3 lac
Rupees with which he can buy another 2 autos and rent it out to a driver. If he
keeps 50% of earning for himself then he earns Rs 13000 for the 2 autos. Considering
he did not also go to MBA college, he had saved another 7-8 lacs, with which he
can buy another 5 autos which gives him another Rs. 37500.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="st">Thus at the age of 23-24, he can easily earn
Rs. 63500 per month.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="st">I am 28 and an MBA, and I am feeling like an
utter fool. This calculation cannot be true. Where did I go wrong in the logic?
Wait till I find it and come back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="st">Shit, this cannot be true!!</span></div>
</div>
Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-81794047068936620732012-02-13T02:42:00.000-08:002012-09-01T10:56:52.738-07:00Serendipity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The jetty service cutting across the Arabian Sea would save
us around 70 kms of drive. The sea has cut in sharply inside the land. The
jetty service was meant to ease the pain of the long travel along the water
body. Cars, vans, small busses all parked inside the compact steamer as it
slowly trudged its way across the sea water.<br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Visibility was limited to a bend and till the bend all we
could only see were cars parked one after the other. We parked our car behind this
long line of cars, came out and ourselves trudged along to see how many cars
where there before the jetty. There were not many cars. We were the 11<sup>th</sup>
car. In the morning we had crossed through another similar jetty and we knew
that there would be space for 9 cars, maximum 10. We would just not make it. We
found out that the steamer was due in another 10 minutes or so. While Abhijit,
Mihir and Satyam waited to test their luck, I ventured on the opposite
direction to quench the basic need called hunger. It was already late afternoon.
Adventurous spirit and late breakfast could only feed me up to a certain limit.
After that my stomach behaves in a very rebellious fashion. <br />
<br />
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<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
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I started wondering whether the jetty was built around the
village or the village around the jetty as a walked down the lane through this
particularly quite village. I was looking for some clue to solve this
intriguing chicken-egg paradox when I saw this quaint hut in front of me. There
was a shade in front of the hut. In the shade there was 1 table and 5-6
chairs. There was a signboard displaying the paraphernalia in offer. I was particularly
intrigued by the fact that this signboard, written in Marathi, had the names of
the various types of cold drinks in a font which was double the size of the
font in which availability of chicken and mutton was displayed. So was it that
food was a secondary business for them? I inquired about availability of food
to the two gentlemen who were gossiping idly in front of the hut. </div>
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“I’ll just inquire and come,” said one of the gentlemen, as
he slowly moved himself from his comfortable position and moved indoors. He
came out after a couple of minutes and asked me, “Sir, are you alone?”</div>
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“No, we are four people, “said I.</div>
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“Sir, let me check again,” said he as he vanished indoors
again.</div>
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He reappeared again after a couple of minutes and said, “We
have just enough for four people sir. You can come. We would be happy to serve
you”</div>
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It almost felt like I had come to somebody’s house and he
was offering me food from his own kitchen. It did not feel as if I am in a restaurant.
In fact, I don’t know by what name to call the place. I could not call it a restaurant
for sure. Well, hunger increases by many folds when you know that food is near.
I almost ran back. The steamer had still not come. My friends were still
waiting. I started praying to God for two things, one; please bring the steamer
fast, two; please there should not be place for us in the steamer. God listened
to my second prayer. And by the time he granted me the second prayer, I started
wishing he had ignored all my prayers. </div>
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Well we missed a place in the steamer. We took our place in
the front of the queue for the next ferry. And then we headed for the hut. Before
long we had hot food on the table and it was sheer bliss. I am a Bengali, and I sometimes
claim myself to be a carnivore. But this was one of the rare occasions when I thanked
God that he made humans omnivorous beings. There was rice, bhakri, some sabjis, ( I did
not care to ask what they were). But the food was real good. I asked the person
serving us, that in the board it was mentioned that they served chicken and mutton.
Then why was it not available today. He said that on Thursdays they have pure
vegetarian food. </div>
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It was a sumptuous meal. It was one of those meals which you
would always remember whenever you remember a trip. There was nothing extra
ordinary about the meal but the beautiful simplicity of the meal was what made
it stand out in our memory. It was the right thing, at the right place at the
right time. It was also serendipity.</div>
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Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-47346479001479537532010-07-07T07:00:00.000-07:002012-09-01T10:57:23.203-07:00That day when I flirted with poetry...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<u><b>A Hypothitical Situation</b></u><br />
Place: Hypothepur.<br />
Location: Campus of a college, Room in 6th floor, 2nd bench.<br />
Weather: cloudy, stormy wind, drizzle is on.<br />
Situation: A class is in progress. The protagonist dozes of. His friend in the next seat pokes and wake him up. He wracks his brain for methods to keep awake. He picks up his pen and poetry flows out like water flows through a hilly cascade in full monsoon.<br />
<br />
.....<br />
<br />
Bald head with<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>a beard on the chin,<br />
A little more fat<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and he'd be Alladin's Jin.<br />
Have you seen Dufus<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>of that show "Duck Tales"?<br />
Dufus is now talking<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>about how services sells.<br />
There he is lost again,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>out of the window he stares,<br />
Then he dances, makes faces<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and strangely glares.<br />
Voila!!Raman wakes up<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and asks a question,<br />
Is it a question? A Statement?<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We wonder in vain.<br />
Sir has no clue either,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>about the question or the answer,<br />
He says something, raman nods his head,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>it's all a blur.<br />
Singapore Girl, Ramdev Baba...<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I really do not care,<br />
The class goes on like<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>a boring nightmare.<br />
He checks his laptop<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>making last of his points,<br />
Everything seems blurry<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>like after 4-5 joints.<br />
I so want to go<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and dive into my bed,<br />
Sleep in peace with<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>all tension out of my head.<br />
<br />
*Resemblence with any real life character or situation is purely coincidental.<br />
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Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-51013666261242448942010-06-05T06:57:00.000-07:002012-09-01T10:57:53.630-07:00Feeling Hot Hot Hot !!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Keshpur happens to be one of the most politically sensitive areas in West Bengal. "They caught the man with his hair and chopped his head off. One hand held the head, the rest of the body fell down in a heap. There was blood all over." </div>
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He had lost one eye in a freak driving accident. So one of his eyeballs was white. He had a thick mane of black hair on his head. 48 year old, Mr. Deep Chowdhury, had one of the most expressive smiles i have ever seen. Small wrinkes formed over the side of his eyes when he laughed. The matter of fact manner </div>
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he said everything and the way he ended every sentence with that smile left me speechless in many of the cases. </div>
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Keshpur, a village 140 km from Kolkata has become a place synonymous with political vendetta and bloodshed. </div>
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"I wanted to study, i liked studying you know. When I was in class 7, my dad told me come to the field for the harvest. He needed a helping hand for the harvest. I said i have to go to school for an exam. He hit me on my back with the plough. And I ran away from my house." </div>
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"I ended up in a circus in Orissa. I was a helper with the elephant master. Used to help out in this and that. I never could do anything special. So I left that place also. I came back home. Those scenes that you see in movies like father crying and hugging a son as came back, never happens in real life. Life is hard. So as i came back, touched the feet of my father, he just said, you have come back son? Good. Let's go the field, i'll need some extra help."</div>
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"How are you doing, son?", down came uncle from number 24, the next side upper berth. He was a manager in a small hotel near bangalore.</div>
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"Let's have tea", before anyone can say anything, he had already paid for three teas."I have earned a lot, and also spend a lot. U are small children let me pay." Actually, there was a lot that had followed from uncle's side. There were mango juices, then sweet curd, and many things more. "I have a salary of 5000 Rs per month. And food and lodging is free. So I save a lot. My son is also well settled. Earns around 7-8000 permonth. I am happy." He later added. </div>
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Uncle, had a waiting list ticket. He had got on the train anyways. He found an empty upper berth and perched on the same. He was well above 60, a super senior citizen or a very senior person (VSP) one can say. The ticket checker approached. He reached out his hand towards the upper berth. Uncle extended his ticket. At that moment he was an epitome of innocence. The checker did not have the nerve to harass the VSP in front of a coup full of brooding passengers. He marked the seat in his sheet as occupied and moved on. Uncle rarely came down from his upper perch. When he came it was always treat time for us.</div>
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Deep Babu continued, "In front of my eyes, you know, right in front of my eyes. They shot 7 people. They had lined them up against a wall. And they shot them. Why? They had the audacity of voting for green. It is very difficult for the red party to loose you know. Because they know if they loose, they would suffer the same fate, bullets or chopped by the axe. When you see these your blood starts boiling. But you have family, parents, u know. So if u protest maybe you can protect yourself, but your family would die. They hear you talking, next day morning you would find a red flag on your field. That means your field has been confiscated. No more farming for you. You can either die in the village of starvation, or come to the city and work as a labourer."</div>
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"I had driven trucks all over the Andhra, Maharahtra, MP, Orissa, Karnataka. I can speak Kannad, Tamil, Telegu, Punjabi, Uriya." I got proof of the same in some of the stations where our train halted, which was incidentally quite a few. "I have enjoyed a lot during this time. But I stopped everything after I got </div>
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married. I returned home, opened a small garage, settled there. Then I lost one eye. Next I developed heart problems." He lifted his shirt and showed me the cut. It streched from around the upper chest to lower part of his stomach. " There was a total blockage of some viens, so they had to take some from my leg, and use them here. His leg had a similar foot long cut. "All my savings, garage, are now gone. I am left with 5 bighas of land. I love farming you know. Now that I am regaining my strength, I'll start farming again."</div>
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"Where were you?". Deep babu's son in law, who had accompanied him for his treatment in Bangalore, had appeared. "I made a friend in AC compartment and was sitting wih him. This place is a bloody furnace." True, it was around 45 degree plus, and we were passing through the arid Andhra region. We were on the 1st day and had another of travel before us.</div>
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Uncle suggested, "You know you can easily start a business. There are so many people who go from your place to Bangalore for medical treatment. You know the language, you have had your treatment there so you know the system there. You know a hotel there. My hotel. You take 1000 Rs. and relieve them of the hassle. </div>
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You accompany them to Bangalore, stay with them, arrange all contacts, etc. Bring them to my hotel and I will pay you commission. Later you can arrange with doctors also for commission from them."</div>
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"I cannot take money like that,"said Deep Babu.</div>
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Uncle debabted,"You know you are taking money to provide convinience to people. What is wrong in that? People actually make money of inconvinience to people."</div>
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"I can never do any such thing," later Deep babu whispered to me. "I am a simple farmer, you think I can be a businessman like that?"</div>
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There was a commotion that was developing towards the end of the compartment. It was sometime before I understood the reason. I was in S10, it was the last sleeper compartment and the next compartment was AC 3 tier. The AC guys has closed the shutter in between and as a result the ticket checker, pantry guys were all trapped in this side. And was battering the door and shouting to let them in and carry on with thier duties. </div>
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"Bloody buggers," said Deep Babu. "What we are not humans and they think if we touch their AC air then we will pollute them?", uncle jestaculated. He gave his smile again...</div>
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There he was sitting a feet away from me..on the opposite side of the berth. But he seemed to be very far away. Almost like he lived in a world apart. Murder, extortion, poverty, they are something that is so far away from the protected life that we lead. Our life with jeans, pubs, malls, electronic gadgets have somehow insulated us from all those realities of life. I cannot do anything, but stare at him, at that man from the other side of the world.</div>
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Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-42740526453450542102010-04-03T21:58:00.001-07:002012-09-01T11:00:16.887-07:00Of Vision and Illusion<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
VJXKM Sukumar was an astronaut. We'll call him Jack. Why? Well why not? He is a decent guy. Of course we can call him Jack. Ok jokes apart,we'll call him Jack beacuse he looks a lot he looks a lot like Jack Nicholson. The famous hollywood actor. Only Sukumar was darker in complexion, coming from the southern parts of Inda, his face was different, and he was thin, very thin. But otherwise he was exactly a Jack nicholson look alike. On the IGS(International Global Spaceship) he was testing the new american discovery, the USITC(Ultra spectacular inch telescopic camera). This camera could take pictures of stuff that were of an inch size from the space.<br />
<br />
<br />
He was an extremely patriotic guy. He had decided never to forget his roots when he left his small village of kapapideru...<br />
<br />
When told to test the camera, he decided that the first picture he would take would be of his very own coutry, the country that he came from. India. He would use photoshop to write 'I Love India' below the picture. He would take the picture and send it home to his parents. They would laminate it and hang it on the wall. And be proud of his sons achievements.<br />
<br />
He started humming 'jana gana mana..'as he fixed the camera on the octapod. 'Damn it what was the 3rd line? Why do they write national anthems in local languages? They should have written it in engish. It's damn hard to remember something without understanding a word of it. Bloody India, nothing but stuffed with hypocrisy.'<br />
<br />
'You lift my spirit, take me higher, make me fly,<br />
<br />
Touch the moon up in the sky, when you are mine<br />
<br />
You lift me higher, take my spirit, make it fly,<br />
<br />
Where all new wonders will appear'....<br />
<br />
he started humming...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
What the hell, I am is going to take a picture of something 1 inch in size. Who is gonna care whether it is of indian soil or soil of sahara desert. Lets pick something from US. After all, that is the soil that gave some meaning to my life.<br />
<br />
Lets see...USA, District of columbia, Washington DC, there is the NASA HQ...well lets move a bit awy towards MT Rainier. Zoom in more....there it is...wow its a stream of ants...very symbolic thought jack..he was not sure of what but he knew it was symbolic....he took the picture...picture of a proud ant red with passion..why should it not be red? after all it is a plump and posh american ant...not the poor hungry ants back in india....he makes a crooked face as he looks out of the SHMG(Special hardened magnifying glass) towards india...the sun was rising on INdia...yuck, people will by now start looking for a suitable place beside the railway track to shit..disgusting...he looked with forlorn eyes towards US. He could see the other side of the earth too with his SRP(Satellite refracto panograph). NIght in america...the people are kissing and partying and drintgin beer...what a life...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
He opened the letter from his parents about a week frm the time, he had returned from space.. Its about 8 months from the day he took that picture of that ant. He had seen the letter last week, but he had a very busy week. He had just returned from IGS and the successful testing of USITC was among the many feathers in his cap.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Son,<br />
<br />
We are so happy for you. We have not heard your voice for a long time. But we see your pictures. In magazines, newspapers. You have become thin. We are very proud of you. When sugandha showed us the picture u had taken from up there, it came in all the newspapers here, we were really very surprised. It was written that it was a picture of something in america, but though the picture was not very clear, we could understand that it was the picture of our small red house. We knew the first picture u take cannot be anything other than your house. And u proved us right. U so loved your house in clidhood. We still remember that day when u creid u r eyes out when u r father got a transfer and u would not go anywhere leaving the house. And then the transfer got cancelled. We expalined to sugandha that u had to tell them that it was something american becuase u work for them. Then everyone saw the picture carefully and agreed that it was the picture of our house alright. But u made a good joke of them. U know u r bravery have become famous here for how u took u r house's foto and passed it for something american. The young people one day took out a procession in your name. The local communist leader has also said that he would donate 4 lakh rs to us in your name for u r patriotism and anti-american stance. God bless u son.<br />
Mom and Dad.</div>
Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-44576011567671411842010-04-03T21:57:00.000-07:002012-09-01T11:01:10.061-07:00LA DON BOSCO LIGA<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Don Bosco School, Liluah, Virtus et Labor, Mrs Maiti's Disciple 1st, Discpline 2nd, Discilpline 3rd...they form some of my most cherished memories. No, i don't remember my first day in school, but one thing i do remember is that i did not cry, i was actualy very excited. Dad took me to a smiling, bearded old man,'This is chacha, and everyday u are to take his bus to school and return to him after the classes.'<br />
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My uncle, borda for me, used to take me to the bus stop on his cycle (this continued till my 10th class). From there chacha's bus to school. School was from 9 to 2:30PM. And school was fun.<br />
<br />
Today I am only left with some scattered memories of primary school. Actually our primary school and a major part of high school revolved around football. We played football all the time. In the morning we got some free time before classes started, then there was the small tiffin(15 min break after the 1st 3 classes), big tiffin(about 50 min break after 5th period), and another half an hour before senior school got over. We filled these free time with lots of football. We played with small rubber balls, balls that were actually made for cricket. Sometimes even tennis balls. In senior section it was on very rare ocaasions that we actually played with the object that is actually globally known as a football.<br />
<br />
We had two almost fixed teams. The main players of the opposite team were Tanmay and sinchan. Whereas our team had Rakesh, Arindam, Rahul and me as the main players. Other players used to come and go. These were tales of primary school. In high school, all of our students got jumbled up in sections. And these best friends of mine became a bit scattered. Rahul and me were great buddies in primary school. We shared a great understandin in the field also. Same with rakesh and arindam. High school saw new friends coming in. And old friends drifting apart.<br />
<br />
Slowly the warring football teams evolved into a bengali and a non bengali team. Almost always, the bengali team was much stonger the nonbengali faction. And we had to lend them players to maintain a balance. As a rule we always won.<br />
<br />
We had a strange custom in our football. Let me elaborate on the bell stucture of our school. Big tiffin ended with a bell. About 5-10 min after that bell was another bell by which we were all supposed to be in our respective lines in the assmbly hall. If you are still found to be loitering, dire consequences await you. So coming back to football. As soon as the first bell was rung, football transformed to rugby. The person who had possesion of the ball in his foot used to pick it up in his hand and made a mad rush towards the opponent goal. And it was then that anarchy used to break loose. Torn buttons, shirts, sleeves were commonplace occurances during the rugby period. Thankfully this rugby lasted for only 3-4 mins, because we all had to return to assembly hall by the 2nd bell.<br />
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We had great moments and great plyers in our league. Rajib, Santaneel, Ritwik, Subhayu, Abhishek, were other stars that our league was proud of. Rajib was famous for his 'Gola' shot. That was a directionless, meaningless yet immensely powerful shot. The diretion of the shot depended on the direction he was facing when he recieved the ball. If he was facing the side line, he would hit it towards the side line. If he is facing his own goal he hit it towards his own goal. And he used to hit it with so much power that it was actually like a canon ball. Hence 'Gola'.<br />
<br />
Arko and Soumabho were famous for thier bull like tussle. Both of them were huge. And invariably, both were placed on opposite sides. When they came face to face, the ball was lost somewhere and they were left wrestling each other like two sumo wrestlers or like two african bisons.<br />
<br />
Ritwik used to run like a bull. You give the ball to him and he used to dart through the field like an angry bull. He was always as straight as a dart.<br />
<br />
Subhayu broke his leg sometime in between. In the later stages of his healing process he used to walk around our goal with that plaster in his leg and any stiker from the opponent knew that they may as well have thier leg broken if they get a kick from Subhayu. The safest defender our team ever had.<br />
<br />
Subhayu once hit the ball very hard and it landed perfectly on the head of some faculty of the technical section. It had definitly hurt. He pocketed the ball and waited for the culprit to come forward. A ball those days used to cost 2 rs. But even that was a luxury for us. after a lot of pocket hunting we realised that the whole team did not have a cumulative amount of 2 rs. And we sent Subhayu to face the noise. And he did go to that sir. And came back with a solid print of a hand over his cheek. He was bhagat singh imporsonated for us.<br />
<br />
Kuntal was the mudmaster. He was a average player in ordinary. But he rose to extraordinary echeleons of football as soon as it rained. He was a wizard with the ball in the mud. He slided and slizzled past hapless and apprehensive defenders to safely deposit the ball in oppenents net. He was the MVP during the monsoon.<br />
<br />
In monsoon most of the times we used to play in the assembly hall. However this was not allowed. Balls often drifetd in to the technical section and was gone for ever. On quite a few occasions people were caught and punished. Me? Well, i was a 100m sprint specialist.<br />
<br />
Football was what we went to school for, atleast till ninth grade. Actually after all this football, the fittest of us became extremely tired. This showed during tutions and homework. As board exam neared,parental pressure increased, chaos increased in life. And hardened footballers slowly started to lessen their zeal in the field.<br />
<br />
I too took sanyas dring my +2. I plyaed on rare occasions. But the madness remained. Football had crept in our veins. Whenever i see a field i feel like jumping in. Whenever i see people playing football in that field i stare at them, till they move out of sight. Football still causes viens to become excited. It still causes the adrenaline to rush. Today, my legs shout with protest and plagues me with muscle pull, strain and stuff whenevr i become ambitious enough to step in to the field. But memories of that time of 'soccer all day' never fails to bring a smile in my face and cheer in my heart.<br />
<br />
I wish we could take the field once again, one more time and see to the end of that non bengali team, or that team of sinchan and tanmoy, once and for all... What say rakesh, rajib, arindam, sourav, subhayu, santaneel, ritwik....What say guys??? <br />
<br />
(If all of you were in our team then who hell was in thiers????)</div>
Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-35685029008963630732010-04-03T21:50:00.000-07:002012-09-01T11:01:39.296-07:00Hyderabad Blues....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This one is called . . THE BIG BANG...<br />
<br />
Yes that was his ambition. To become an astronomer. In his early days, the sky fascinated him. So, in moral science class as his teacher asked, what do you want to become when you grow up? He said, "I want to be an astronomer." Sounds boring. Sounded interesting to him then.....<br />
<br />
<br />
Well as fate would have it, he turned out to be a short, fat, mechanical engineer, who converted to software industry. Sounds even boring?? Well it really was.... :( <br />
<br />
It is 6 'o' Clock at hyderabad now. And the hero of our story is waiting for completion of the mandatory 9.15 hrs in office. He minimises the window, stares at the desktop for sometime. Nope, hopeless even the scecnic beauty of the himalayas fails to motivate our hero to work some more. He gives a cursory glance towards the bottom rght corner of the screen and does the calcualation that he has been doing every 2 min now, frm 5:30 pm.<br />
<br />
Another 1 hr has to be spent..then he can go back home. Lie down embrace the only lover he has, close his eyes and relax for some time. He would mumble all his days woes. But for his chivalrous character he would have even shed some tears embracing his lover. He simply loved his pillow, the only lover in the world our hero has at present. :'( ..<br />
<br />
The article he was reading mentioned that every now and then, you should try to focus your eyes at the farthest object that you can see from your cubicle.....Just to reduce strain in your eyes...strain that is generated when you stare at you monitor for a long time...<br />
<br />
The farthest thing??!! Can he see the sky from his cubicle?? he never noticed or tried...he suddenly wanted to see those varied constellations that he once searched in the night sky....ursa major, minor, andromeda, hydra.......when was the last time he looked at the night sky for those???He could'nt remember...He suddenly smiled, laughed at himself.....the farthest he could see was the HR's cubicle, yup his PM's cubicle was also visible......The Sky.....nowhere in sight..........<br />
<br />
ATHOS, PATHOS AND CHAOS<br />
eWork - no works. That’s how my project is known among onsite folks. What is eWorks? Well it is a cluster of 7 applications which are used for tracking various marketing needs in <we are="" clients="" disclose="" name="" not="" our="" supposed="" to="">. (This is how I introduced my project in front of the client during their recent visit to Hyderabad). <br />
<br />
<br />
- What is work that u do from here?<br />
<br />
- We maintain and support these 7 applications. Add new functionalities to the already existing applications in the form of change requests, handle several data issues, and take care of tickets that the actual users raise when they face any problems while working with the applicarions.<br />
<br />
What followed was a twist of the lips and nod of the head. <br />
<br />
- Great said todd. Keep up the good work. We depend on you people. A forced smile and then they move on to the next cubicle.<br />
<br />
Big deal!! They go back home with remembrance of several brown girls in salwar kameez and even more blurry brown faces of over enthusiastic, smartly dressed guys who talk in a funny English accent about God knows what….But they love India, Poor hungry India. Incredible India!<br />
<br />
That was my fifteenth, in a row. A big wide one, bringing tears to my eyes. The yawns are going beyond my control. Tears are now flowing down in a steady stream from my eyes. Suneela notices that.<br />
<br />
- Why are u crying? What is wrong? She is epitome of concern and care.<br />
<br />
Rajeshwar, rajesjwari every pounces on me with interest.<br />
<br />
- i am sad, says i.<br />
<br />
- Do not joke, since u have come back from home, u have become quite, u do not speak so much, and now u are crying. What is wrong?<br />
<br />
- i bbbbroke up with my gg ggg girlfriend...i cannot control myself anymore..i break down..sob sob...<br />
<br />
Show is over. People go back to staring at their respective monitors while the restless hands plays on the hapless keyboard.<br />
<br />
The startling green of the Khajjier valley stare at me from my desktop. There was a light drizzle. Annie stayed back in the car. The great boss(a frnd) lingered through the pine his lower back imitating a pendulum in action. The umbrella looking teenie compared to his humungous physique. Borda, sourav, <br />
<br />
me ventured into the wet meadow. A little appehensive of the tricky mood of the many roaming horses. <br />
<br />
Sourav unleased is always a treat to watch. He was dancing and jumping in the rain, borda always edging him on, reminding me of mera naam joker. I the quintessential photographer, was ever alert of the crazy antics of sourav and borda, to capture them in my camera.<br />
<br />
It was fun, dancing around in the rain, barely using our umbrellas. Mountains have their own serene, mystic beauty in the monsoons. The huge moutains playing hide and seek with the clouds, creates an eerie atmosphere.<br />
<br />
A cup falls and breaks somewhere in the floor. Some people clap and rejoice at the destruction. The species who can rejoice at destruction. We all rejoice at destruction. Not only Taliban or Al Quaeda. Some rejoice when their worst enemy gets destroyed in that football match against that some XYZ team, some are more sadistic and rejoice when they could successfully decimate some foriegn captives. Animals are much simpler. They only know love or hate. They do not know to disguise love with hate or hate with love.<br />
<br />
My desktop again stares back at me. Almost with a sarcastic laugh. It's the laugh which the girl gives to her endless list of lovers, who know she'll never be their's. Khajjier mocks me. Tells me. O u pseudo adventurer..that is all u will ever have of me. An hour of ur life u have spend in admiration on my meadows. u have admired my grass, my mountains and how those clouds flirt with me. Then u capture me in a camera. Sit in that sophisticated cage of ur s. And u think of me. If u like me so much, then come to me...profess u r love for me..and stay close to me..and i'lll show u that i can also love u back. I may not be the brainy, self rightous species u r. But i have my ways..I can make u happy...come to me..if happiness is all u want.....<br />
<br />
'Something is really wrong with this guy...now he is blankly staring at his desktop'</we></div>
Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-89366341055179305852010-03-01T02:55:00.000-08:002012-09-01T11:03:46.367-07:00To Do or Not tO do That iS thE prObLeM...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"All the talk about balancing work and personal life is bullshit. If you like what you are doing then it is all your<br />
personal life."<br />
The thought is about doing what you really like to do in life. It's about following your passion. Trying to build value around your strengths. It is said that it is better to build on your strenths than to try to better your weaknesses.<br />
To turn your strength your weakness is the worst thing you can do to yourself. The thought makes you think. There are many people who love what they are doing and most often than not they are the successful ones(or the successful ones are the ones with rich dads). The very fact that we are stuck doing something we do not like is testimony to the fact that we are mediocre.<br />
Difficult to digest? Some people may say that maybe you are stuck with something that you do not like now, but later you started doing something that you really liked and you became very successful. Does it mean I am still mediocre? Of course not. If you have attained success in a field that you are passionate about then you have potential to be the best. And you are no longer mediocre. But if you get success in some field that you are not passionate about then it is more likely that that success is momentary. And it is for sure that you will never be the best in that field.<br />
There are people who say that you need to go through the grind to be able to do what you like. I may like to farm, I may like to teach. But to farm I need a farmhouse and land which requires money to buy. To teach I have to pass exams and get degrees and build credibility.<br />
Yes that is how it is for us, the mediocre. We have to go through the grind to follow our passion at a later point of life. But that was not the case with "Will Hunting" of Good Will Hunting:The movie. He is a genius who works as a janitor and solves assignments of MIT students for timepass. When asked how he manages to do it like that, he says that when Mozart played the piano he did not have to think of the notes and<br />
decide which note to play after the other. He just played. It came naturally to him. Will said all this mathematics came naturally to him. He did not have to think of steps.<br />
I guess we all should strive to find out what is that we are a natural at. What is that field that we can do without thinking and stressing our grey cells. That is only way out of mediocrity. And one of the ways to Happiness.</div>
Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-64326032438176494142010-01-30T22:29:00.000-08:002012-09-01T11:05:00.712-07:00Fanning to glory.....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
Lately, I was finding myself wihout any topic to write about. And when I had a good topic to write about, I had nothing to write about, about that topic. Sounds psycho?? Well, can't help it.<br />
I decided to look around me, pick up the 1st thing that catches my attention and start writing about it. Let's see. <br />
Hmmm..there is one very interesting subject. The brown Fan. No can't see the brand from here. But there she stands still and proud and looking down upon us. There are two of them in my room. Yes, both are similar. Identical twins.<br />
This is a species which is always sitting above our heads. I bet they think that they have higher status than the other types of fans like the pedestal fans, the hand held fans, or the small portable pocket fans. Cieling fans are like sitting on that high pedestal above all other types of fans.<br />
What do they do? They rotate. And by that they manipulate Pavan Dev to human benefit. These faithful Pavan manipulators are quite man's best friends during the summers. They had a 100% share of mind and share of heart till those silent killers called ACs started taking over the human mind. But whatever substitute you build, they all has some variety of the fan in some form or the other, embedded in them. <br />
They rotate in all their glory and gives heavenly pleasure to the protagonist who comes to its patronage drenched in his sweat and misery. The humans get ecstatic with pleasure as that soft/hard burst of wind(depending on the speed set in the regulator) carresses them with thier careful touch. Where else can you actually regulate the amount of pleasure you would want to have? Regulator zindabad.<br />
The sun rotates, the earth rotates, the fan also rotates. The earth rotated and the humans survived. Then came global warming. Then the fan rotated and humans kept on surviving. They wait inside the closed boundary of walls, wait patiently like like an ideal housewife for the tired human to come home and take some moments to solace under your patronage. They only operate to give humans some pleasure. Otherwise they are a silent spectator of the great play called life going on all around them. <br />
They see so much drama, chaos, all taking place right below their eyes, and yet they keep silent. They only move when the same human asks for some breath of solace and pleasure. And them it rotates, rotates with all its force, trying her level best to comfort the human below. <br />
Keep rotating in all your glory, you enigmatic rotating, Pavan manipulator. Ms Fan we are all your fans.</div>
Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-23675874698267691022009-12-06T01:10:00.001-08:002012-09-01T11:08:28.268-07:00The sermon on the Mars<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The sermon on the Mars</span></span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Behold here comes the TRUTH. Reading conditions apply: Girls do not read. You people are omniscient so why strain your eyes. Guys above 23 and still single, by all means read.Guys who are not single, you know you have better things to do. It's not worth the read.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ok here it comes……..</span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">How does it all start? It starts on that sunny day, when you see her, with her pretty hair and face, oblivious of your existence, chatting with some of her friends. That pretty smile just bowls you over. The world around you starts to move in slow motion. You tell yourself that this is the girl who was made for you. "kae jaisae tujhko banaya gaya hain mere liyae….."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">You find excuses to get near her. You laugh stupidly whenever she is around. You try to come up with something witty and end up cracking some sick jokes. You silently wish to God that you find one common link. Same project, same club, same assignment, same specialization, anything. You stare at her and wait for her to look at you for an opportunity to wave and smile at her. One day you find her taking the stairs and you grab the opportunity to spend some time (proportional to the number of floors she intends to climb) with her. You silently thank God and see this as a sure sign that even God is on your side in this. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">You tell yourself and your friends," No, I am not desperate or anything. If it is meant to happen then it'll happen. I just want to be her friend for now". </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Let ask you people some simple questions. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">1)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Do you look back to see her face as you pass any girl on the road?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">2)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Do you become very conscious about what you are talking, when you are around with girls?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">3)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Do you think that staying moody or overreacting would actually make a girl interested in you, when in a group?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">4)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">You ask a girl for lunch or coffee and she agrees do you think that shows that she is interested?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">5)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">A girl sits besides you for lunch or while you are having coffee. Do you infer that she is interested in you?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">6)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">When a girl passes you then do you secretly wish that she'll look towards you and smile?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">If answer to any of the above question is YES, then you are desperate for female company. You may as well admit it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">The girl understands everything all the time. Not because she actually is omniscient, but simply because she has been going through this "ordeal" since before she even realized that she was a girl. She blissfully ignores every foolhardy behavior of the desperate genre.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">"I never thought about us in that way. I thought we were just friends." This happens to be the ultimate shield that girls happen to possess. Guys are still at a loss to find out a suitable antidote for these words. This we'll call "THE SENTENCE". </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> 4-5 months down the line she ends up being the password of the hapless creature. 1year down the line, he starts looking for a new prospect to act funny again.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Weak hearted people stop right here. Girls I told you never to read it. You may as well quit now.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The sermon follows…..</span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">A girl always has it too easy. They always have umpteen numbers of options in front of them. I sincerely hope that one day this scenario would change and guys will be in demand. That would be the day when the girl has to woo a guy to fall in love with her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Well fantasies are fantasies. People will be left aghast if we quantify the amount of time an average person spends on wooing the opposite sex; the number of exams that have gone bad thinking about her or because you had to spend some time with her; the amount of money you have spend just to impress her. There are a very small percentage of guys who get the requisite return on investment. Others spend time, money, energy and then THE SENTENCE is thrown at him. He is left without any recourse.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Let me suggest you people a different course of action. Spend the same time, not even the same time, a small percentage of that time on some peers. Buy them a coffee, or a couple "vada pao", play some cards and you can create some friends who'll last your lifetime. Life will be much simpler. You would not have to explain every one of your actions in minutest detail. You would not have to try different methods to impress her every other day. Guys enjoy independence. Enjoy the one thing for which Shahid Bhagat Singh, Lala Lajpat Rai, Netaji Subhash and many many others gave their lives. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Yes it is very important to follow your instincts, but for heavens sake after hearing THE SENTENCE one time, grow wiser, and do a very good cost benefit analysis, before putting your capital into any venture.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Just Kidding yaar…. ;-) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Kumar Krishanu Mukherjee.</span></div>
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Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-32388952490161584502009-10-15T05:37:00.000-07:002012-09-01T11:06:31.505-07:00Still in pursuit of happiness...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<strong><em>It was dusk, the sky was clear, our solitary protagonist was brooding...the master brooder as he always is...</em></strong><br />
<br />
All I wanted to be was happpy...and all i wanted from people around me was that they also remain happy...i wanted them to like me, i wanted everyone of us to be happy, so that we can all enjoy whatever time we spent together with lot of joy and merrymaking…<br />
What do I want from life?? I want to be happy …and how I plan to do that I have no idea..some people say you must have a knack for something, find that something out and do that. You will be happy..…but what if I never find out what I am good at…….when I was a kid, primary section, I wanted to be an astronaut. In secondary school, I wanted to be a professional musician. At the same time I also wanted to be a professional footballer. <br />
I guess that was the last time, in high school, that I nurtured some serious ambition. <br />
However I became something pretty different. <br />
I turned out to be an engineer. Then I went on to work for an entirely different sector. And now I am studying business management. Marketing.<br />
Where will I stop? What will I end up being? I have no idea.<br />
There are people, friends, acquaintances, who are so focused about where to go and what to do with their life. Sometimes I envy them for the certainty they associate with themselves. For the focus they have towards any particular goal. However, sometimes I pity them. It’s no fun reading a novel if you know what is going to happen in the last chapter.<br />
I have lived and accepted my life as it comes. Every day has been a new, exiting game for me. There are challenges all over the way. Sometimes you solve them right, sometimes you are dead wrong, and it is then that you analyze and find out for yourself what the ideal answer should have been and apply it on the next occasion you get.<br />
I guess it is okay if you are not sure about what you can do. That can have two explanations. Either you are good at nothing or you are good at everything. May be I am an allrouder who can do anything that is given to him(there are 2 things which I know I cannot do:1 – dancing, 2 – playing carom). Only time can tell. Till then let’s enjoy life as it comes….majja nu life..</div>
Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-28827424143805208672009-09-25T06:16:00.000-07:002012-09-01T10:59:28.210-07:00Walking back to the future....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"Always tell to yourself, if I can't then who can. Afterwards be humble enough to say, if I can then who can't"-Anonymous.<br />
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I quote the first part of the quote to myself everyday. That happens to be purely my personal way to motivate myself. The first month was off, even before I had time to comprehend its arrival. I had been wallowing away in my 'home sweet home' for a month, after tendering my resignation another month before. Well, I wanted to work till the last day, but somehow my manager seemed very relieved the day I announced my intention to resign. And due to some sinister reason he released me a month earlier than what I expected. Recession I guess.<br />
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Anyways, the pace of the MBA course gave me a sudden jolt. We were expected to be studying 13 subjects all in one go. In engineering we had 6 subjects/semester. Somehow I could never remember the names of even those six. And now I had 13 to remember. The number 13 scared me.It reminded me of friday the 13th. It's the unlucky number. The teachers scared me. Surprise tests and all. My peers scared me. They seemed to know everything under the blue sky. It was amazing how every week we had classes of 13 different subjects. So much of knowledge was continously being bestowed on my hapless self that I always felt six feet under a stack of incomprehensive information. I felt as if I was in the open seas in a derelict canoe facing 13 tsunamis coming towards me.<br />
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I guess 3 years of smug life in a cubicle had made me too comfortable. Because within 2 months I found that it was not all that scary after all. The people around me were human too. A bit of smart time and resource management was all that was required. Well it happens to be a fact that there seemed to be lots tornados and eartquakes waiting for us during the next two years. But all that was needed was some sincere hard work. After all, as Thomas Alva Edison once said,“Genius is 1% inspiration, and 99% perspiration".<br />
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B-School life is all about living life to the fullest. There is hard work; along side there is lots and lots of fun. College life just for another 2 years! Couldn’t be better. In a span of around one and half month, we had had outbound trips, cultural fest cum competition (our very own AARAMBH), classical music programs, rock shows, extempore competetions, the list is already quite big.<br />
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It is all about enjoying whatever you are doing and doing whatever you enjoy. Umpteen number of activities is always going around in a B-School. It is all about getting involved and bringing out the best in you. B Schools are said to be grooming ground for budding managers. Yes, that is the ultimate goal, but the bottomline is to groom yourself. To find out what you are really good at, if you have'nt done that already, because more often than not, this is the last platform you will ever get to experiment with yourself. This is the ground to plant the seeds of ambition, bestow upon them the water of innovation, groom them with sincere determination so that the budding managers can bloom with grandiose. It is time to try out something that you have never tried out before. And always tell yourself if I can't then who can.</div>
Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-822202169998921022.post-21577834554003070802009-09-23T06:59:00.000-07:002012-09-01T11:05:50.298-07:00In Pursuit of happiness…<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It was as if that the castle of my heart has been all morose because of her absence. Then there was news that she was coming back. And then she came, with all her grace, with that charming gait, stunning everyone around her with her quintessential beauty.<br />
“She’ll be coming round the mountains when she comes,<br />
She’ll be riding six white horses when she comes.<br />
Yippeee yi yi yippee yippee yi”<br />
Everyone rejoices at her arrival. The trees salute her with greener leaves. The clouds, her guardian angels, always roam around to keep her safe and sound.<br />
Monsoon has come!!<br />
The sudden squeak of the microphone breaks my flow of thought. I came back to the harsh reality. The reality of competition, the rat race for jobs, MBA, entrepreneurship, Capital Markets, statistics and bitter ugly rivalry in all spheres of life. There is no time to sit and brood about the beauty of nature. Everyone is running. People are running towards some unknown invisible magnetic force whose nature nobody knows. Some say they are running in pursuit of happiness. Some are running for recognition, fame, money. But at the end of the day all someone wants to be is happy. So it would be fair to assume that we are running after happiness. But at the end of the day are we happy? This entire saga of struggle, the study, the competition, the sleepless nights does it all make us happy? <br />
I do not know.<br />
Yes, we are happy when we achieve something. But sometimes I think that it would be so much better if I could leave everything and settle in some small village, with a river nearby. If I could watch sunset sitting beside the river with no worries in my mind.<br />
But reality does not let us paint such a romantic picture. Reality has mosquitoes which tend to come and scare of people who would be watching sunset beside the river.<br />
“Let’s take 10 mins break and then we’ll resume with the subsequent portion.”<br />
People scurry out of the class. Some hurry to the loo, some to grab a coffee to help him combat the torturous boredom of the class. I wait. Wait and watch those incessant drops of rain coming down from the heavens. Yes even the heavens are crying on the sad plight of the human race. The race that had advanced so much, that they have forgotten that the basic right of all beings is the right to be happy. The dark clouds roam about menacingly over our head posing. A harbinger of some great calamity. A possible check to the humans who are becoming menacing to the earth’s existence itself. The heavens keep on crying on man’s plight, on the sad state of God’s favorite creation.</div>
Kumar Krishanu Mukherjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14165921767220621949noreply@blogger.com1